


Impressions

by sidewinder



Series: The Spaces in Between [27]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Episode Related, Episode Tag: s19e13 The Undiscovered Country, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 09:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidewinder/pseuds/sidewinder
Summary: Olivia may need to change her first impressions of Peter Stone.





	Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Chicago Jawline Prompt #1: "First Impressions".

The afternoon was growing late, but Liv felt like she’d barely made a dent in her endless pile of paperwork. At least she knew she could count on Fin to handle the squad while she caught up on these bureaucratic matters—he no doubt preferred _that_ over all these forms, memos and budget reports.

Her cellphone startled her out of her work, vibrating against the desk. She checked it quickly, breathing a sigh of relief to see the name and message there:

**_LUCY_ **

**_Just got Noah from school. Heading home now._ **

 

 _Thanks,_ she sent back in acknowledgement. _I should be home by 7._ She then put the phone aside and tried to focus again on the computer screen in front of her.

Perhaps it was overkill, but ever since Noah’s abduction she’d asked Lucy for these regular messages throughout the day. When she dropped Noah off at school, when she picked him up, then when they were back home after any errands or after-school activities. It helped her feel more at ease, even though she knew she couldn’t be with her son twenty-four hours of the day.

She also was trying to get home more nights at a reasonable time so she could spend those precious evening hours with Noah. But that had proven a challenge these past few weeks, between trying to keep up with the job that never stopped and sitting in on Rafael’s trial.

The latter was over, at least. _At last._ But now she was left reeling from his sudden, unexpected departure. Some unfamiliar, less-experienced ADAs were handling cases she’d thought would be his, and…

And.

And _everything._

She sighed again, pausing to rub eyes grown weary. _Just get through this last file to send over to the DA’s office,_ she told herself. She’d send it direct to Munch’s attention, in fact. She knew he’d be able to read into her comments without having to detail everything out, and be able to interpret them to whomever was taking over this case.

At least she still had _one_ person she considered a friend working there. Brian didn’t count any longer…if he ever had.

An hour or more passed, lost in these case notes, and she was almost finished when a knock at the door interrupted her concentration. “Come in,” she said in a brusque tone, without looking up to see who it was until she finished one sentence, then hit save on her computer.

When she glanced away from the screen, she blinked, not sure if her tiredness was playing tricks on her vision. For the man standing before her was not someone she’d ever expected to see in _her_ office.

He was not someone she necessarily wished to ever see again, either.

“Lieutenant Benson.”

“Mr. Stone.” Peter Stone. The so-called “hot shot” prosecutor from Chicago. The man who had been tasked with putting her friend and colleague away for murder—and who had, thankfully, failed in that task. She wasn’t sure what he could want with her now, given their few encounters in and around the courthouse had been tense at best.

But she had to remember that she was here at work today, as commander of this unit, and therefore she needed to remain professional. Civil. “I…is there something I can help you with?” she managed.

“Yes, actually, if I could have a moment of your time.”

“Of course. Have a seat.”

He did so, folding his lanky frame into the office chair across from her desk. Gone was the suit and tie he’d worn every time she’d seen him in court; on this afternoon he wore casual jeans and long-sleeved sweater, one that clung quite tightly to his muscular frame. She’d read up on him during the trial, that he’d been a professional baseball player before going into law. Clearly he still managed to find the time to stay in shape. “Getting ready to head back home to Chicago?” she asked, hoping she sounded polite and not too eager for that to be the case.

“I was—or so I thought until this morning. But there…might be a change of plans, which is why I’m here.”

“Oh?”

He shifted in his seat, and took a moment to put together his words. “Lieutenant, when we first met, you told me that you hoped I sucked. Which was a completely understandable sentiment given the situation,” he added, cutting off any potential apologies or objections. Not that she was going to be fast to offer one, even if it hadn’t exactly been the most courteous thing for her to have said. “I was there to prosecute a colleague—someone I would soon see was a clear friend to you, and your unit.”

“Yes. Yes, he was.” _Was_. Past tense. That still felt raw and she remained confused as to why that had to be. But since his goodbye outside the courthouse that day Rafael had not called or texted, nor shown up once at her door. His last words to her had held a finality she felt didn’t have to be there. But maybe for him, for now, they did.

Another man who had entered her life and come to mean so much, only to end up walking away.

“I suppose Jack McCoy was disappointed you lost such a high profile case for his office.” Jack had seemed almost gleeful when talking to her on that first day in court.

“I would have thought so myself, but apparently not. He’s asked me if I would consider staying here in New York to take over as ADA for Manhattan Special Victims Unit, since Mr. Barba tendered his resignation.”

Olivia blinked. Of all the possibilities that had been spinning though her head as to why they were having this conversation, _that_ one had certainly not occurred to her. “Wow. That’s…”

“Unexpected?” he offered, with a tiny hint of a very disarming smile.

“To put it mildly.” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or curse at _this_ new development. Had she done something to piss off the District Attorney _that_ much?

She wondered if that indeed was the case. Her, or Barba, or someone else in this unit. They had been through their share of controversial predicaments of late—cases lost, risky maneuvers like Fin’s “fishing trip” to Cuba, the child abuse allegations against her... She knew Chief Dodds had a close eye on them, and maybe he was not the only one. “What did you tell him?” she asked.

“That I’d consider it. Circumstances have changed such that sticking around in New York could be advantageous to me. But I told him I couldn’t take on the job without speaking with you first about it. To make sure that…there wouldn’t be personal issues that would make things difficult, or interfere with seeing justice served.”

“Well. I appreciate your consideration.”

“And I don’t want to put you on the spot, either. I said I’d give my answer by the end of this week. So, if you’d like some time to think it over, talk with your people…I would absolutely understand. I’d be happy to meet with them as well if that might help ease any suspicions or concerns.”

Professional and disarmingly courteous and humble, this Peter Stone was. And entirely unlike Rafael. She hated to think it, but in a way that might be precisely what her unit needed at this juncture, so that they weren’t forever comparing him to their last ADA. Or even if that proved unavoidable, maybe they needed someone who was different enough that comparisons wouldn’t always fall short. “That could be a wise idea. Let me discuss things with my unit tomorrow, and then I’ll give you a call?”

“Of course. You can reach me here, at the cell number on the back,” he said, pulling a business card out of his wallet and handing it to her. As she took it he again flashed that smile, a little more confident in it than before. And she didn’t want to respond to it—didn’t want to be drawn in by that easy charm.

But it was very hard not to do just that. She shook his offered hand as he stood and then watched him leave, her eyes lingering on the open door as Amanda approached, giving Liv a concerned look.

“What was _that_ about?” Amanda asked.

“Something we’ll talk about tomorrow morning.” Liv closed her laptop and began gathering her things. She could send those case notes over from home tonight. Right now she wanted to see and spend some time with her son, and think things over…

...And consider if it wasn’t worth reevaluating her first impressions of Peter Stone.


End file.
